Untold Stories
by Chiara SS
Summary: Harry is a drug dealer, Hermione is an alcoholic, Dumbledore is a terrorist, Snape has anger issues, and Ron might be pregnant! Has Hogwarts gone crazy?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is _the best _thing since slice bread, but unfortunately I don't own it... OR MAYBE I DO. **

**All righty then. I decided to edit this little guy... a bit. Hehehe. Wow, I think I just turned the story into a living being.**

**Also, I suppose I should warn you. This story contains swearing... and erm—mpreg. Hehehehe. **

***shrugs* **

**Enjoy! :D**

* * *

**Untold** **Stories**  
_Chapter One_

* * *

With the invisibility cloak on, Marauder's Map in hand, and White Magic in his pocket, Harry Potter was ready. He stood by the one-eyed witch statue, leaning casually against the wall. Harry glanced at his watch, then at the Marauder's Map; his buyer was no where near the meeting place. Now, Harry didn't usually do deals in the middle of the night for fear of getting caught. But the customer had insisted they meet here at midnight.

Finally, footsteps echoed the halls sounding like grenades against the silence of the night. Harry looked down at the map once more. And making quick steps just down the hall from where he was standing, walked the customer; a young, nervous looking first year Hufflepuff. He pulled the cloak off himself, and stuck his hands inside his robes.

The Hufflepuff was shaking tremendously. He was a first-time buyer. He greeted Harry with a small wave. "Do you have the... er—the stuff?"

"Relax," Harry replied kindly. "Do you have the cha-ching?"

He nodded, and took five gold Galleons from his pocket. Harry pocketed the money, and took out a small bag of glowing white powder.

"Thanks," replied the Hufflepuff.

Harry nodded. "You're welcome. Just remember, don't take it all at one time. _That _could be deadly." Harry didn't need to explain any further, as the entire school had heard about that one Ravenclaw student who had overdosed, and was permanently turned into a duck.

"I'll be careful, I promise," he said like a small child. He quickly turned around, and nearly bolted to his common-room. Harry chuckled, and slipped the cloak over himself.

* * *

**The Next Morning...**

* * *

After a long nights sleep, Harry woke up feeling refreshed and energized—that was the way he always felt when he made a deal.

Harry went into his trunk, and put on the usual black school robes. Before closing the lid, he went into the bottom, took out a brown paper bag, and pocketed it. Ron was snoring loudly in a deep sleep in his bed next to Harry's. He always seemed to be sleeping in these days. Frankly, he'd been acting quite strange lately.

Harry walked out of his dormitory, and down into the common-room. It was almost completely empty, with the exception of a couple of his fellow Gryffindors who had been waiting for him to wake. Harry knew what they wanted. They, like many users of the White Magic, had become addicted to the drug. But that wasn't Harry's problem. If anyone were to point fingers, it was their fault for buying it in the first place.

Harry shook his head, looking around conspiratorially. "Not here," he said in a hushed tone. He had always made it clear to his customers that he would not sell them anything without an appointment.

They both groaned, and walked away sulking.

Harry shook his head sadly, and walked out of the portrait hole to proceed to breakfast. He sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Do they _want _to get caught?" he asked himself aloud. That's what it all boiled down to, anyway—not getting caught. It was a risky business, frankly. But the pay was worth it. And Harry promised himself he would continue to sell until he couldn't anymore.

"Talking to yourself, Potter?" laughed an obnoxious voice.

Harry groaned. That was the voice of one Draco Malfoy; who had crowned 'biggest git in school'. Crabbe and Goyle didn't like him anymore. The teachers—not even Snape for Merlin's sake—could stand his presence. In fact he was such a git, that his parents were considering disowning him.

But Draco seemed oblivious to all of that.

Harry pretended as though he didn't exist, and continued on his journey to the Great Hall. He walked down the winding staircases, past the moving portraits and arrived at the Great Hall without bumping into Peeves, or anyone else for that matter. He walked over to the Gryffindor table, and took a seat beside Fred and George, since Ron and Hermione were no where to be found.

"Do you have it?" Fred whispered into his ear.

Harry grinned from ear to ear, feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins again. "Of course I do."

He sneakily took the out brown paper bag from his pocket, and passed Fred a small bag of the glowing white powder from the night before. Fred pocketed the White Magic, and murmured a 'thank you.' Harry nodded, and turned to his plate not asking for anything in return from the elder Weasley boy. Fred was a major part of the business, not only helping him deal the White Magic, but also making it.

Now, I know what you're thinking! What for Merlin's sake is this 'glowing white powder' also known as 'White Magic'? Basically, it is the Wizard equivalent to the muggle drug, Marijuana. Harry had found, being muggle born of course, that not had Wizards never heard of it, but that it also had magical properties.

For example: if one were were to put it in a potion one was brewing, it was able to correct any and all mistakes made to the brew. But, most students who bought it used it strictly the same way muggle's did; to get high. With OWLs, and NEWTs, and even just plain old end of term exams, school could get extremely stressful. Sometimes, one need a quick fix to calm oneself down.

Then, of course, there were times when one merely just _wanted _to get high, for no real reason whatsoever.

There had been a high demand for the White Magic, and Harry (along) with his colleagues were making good profit off of it.

People were paying in many different ways. And while the primary income was of Galleons, students also found other favors (for payment) so give to Harry and his team.

But lately, people had been getting careless. Or perhaps, just extremely addicted to the drug. Certain people, mostly long time customers, would just come out in the open and ask if he had any White Magic on him. Harry, of course, was forced to deny any involvement, "I have no idea what you're talking about," he would say. But he wasn't heartless. Harry would slip the a card with a meeting time on it.

Other than that, however, business was booming. "Meet me in the courtyard at break. Everyone is going to be there," he told Fred. Every few weeks Harry and his colleagues would meet and talk about business, they're supply, that sort of thing. It was almost like a staff meeting.

And with that, he walked off without another word.

* * *

**Gryffindor Girls Dormitory...**

* * *

Hermione awoke, alone in the girls dormitory.

She was disoriented, and confused. _How did I get back here, _she questioned herself. The last thing she remembered was sneaking into the kitchens to steal some Fire-Whiskey. Hermione attempted to sit up, but the splitting headache and aching body prevented her moving even a muscle. She moaned... another "killer" hangover, another day of skipped classes. This was probably the—in fact, she couldn't remember she'd attended a full day of class.

Surprisingly enough, however, no one seemed to notice her "problem", though Hermione never considered it to be one. "I can stop anytime I want to," she assured herself.

The alcoholism had all started back one night, just around a year ago. It had been near the summer months, and Lavender Brown had dared her, Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes to steal some wine from the kitchens. She objected to it, of course. Considering if Filch had caught her out of bed at that hour—she didn't even want to think of what he'd do. But Lavender had taunted and teased her so much, she couldn't refuse.

She crept out of the portrait hole, afraid at each sound she made. She rushed through Hogwarts' winding hallways down to the kitchens. Hermione went inside the liquor cabinet, filled to the brim with a small selection of wines, whiskeys, and beers. Way, _way _in the back, was the last bottle of Fire-Whiskey, collecting dust up on the shelf. She reached inside, and grabbed it with no trouble at all.

Quietly bringing it back to the common room, Hermione brought it in triumphantly. Lavender looked completely shocked—she hadn't anticipated Hermione actually doing the deed.

Hermione shrugged, and grinned. "Now, why don't _you_ do it?"

Lavender gasped. "No way," she replied with a laugh. "G'night Hermione."

She sighed. Hermione looked at the bottle curiously. _A small sip couldn't hurt, _she muttered to herself. She picked it up, and brought it out to the girls lavatory. Unscrewing the top, she took a swig. It burned as the liquid climbed down her throat. Hermione grabbed her throat, and chugged down a glass of cold water. But as she returned to her bed, she felt an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Almost—emptiness.

Hermione looked at the bottle, now lying discarded on the top of her bed. She was _craving _it. She downed another swig, this time, enjoying the burning sensation it left in her throat. And now, here Hermione lay.

Almost an entire year later. Fifty-Gagillion Fire-Whiskey's later. Following that fateful night with Lavender Brown, the need for alcohol only got worse. She would want it _every single day_.

* * *

**Boys Lavatory...**

* * *

Ron, however, was not asleep comfortably in his bed, or not-so comfortably in Hermione's case. Nor was he in the Great Hall, enjoying some breakfast with his twin brothers, and best friend Harry. No—Ronald Weasley was crouched beside the toilet, emptying the non-existent contents on his stomach into the porcelain god. The sickness had been going on for months now.

And he had _absolutely _no idea what was wrong with himself.

His story began at the Yule Ball.

Ron had been getting some punch for himself and Padma, when Malfoy sauntered over and called him a 'blood traitor', then added that he looked absolutely dreadful. Ron, having spent hours getting ready for the stupid event, was angry to say the least. But then he remembered that no gave a shit of what Draco Malfoy thought about—well, anything. So, he ignored him, and brought her punch back to the table where him and Padma had been sitting.

But, Ron was absolutely horrified to see that some stupid Ravenclaw had taken her spot, and was snogging the shit of Padma. Worst of all, she looked as though she were really enjoyed it, too. He gasped, and ran out of the Ball in tears. _Screw being a man, _he sobbed to himself. He sat on the marble staircase, and cried his eyes out. How stupid had he been to think that Padma Patil actually liked something like _him. _

He was just a nobody. And she was a smart young woman who clearly didn't need him. Then, his thoughts were brought back to four weeks ago when Padma had proclaimed her "love" for him in ways that no could imagine.

It was times like these when Ron wished he was closer with his brothers. It wasn't really as if he could talk to many people about these sort of things. Harry was out the question—I mean, what experience did he have. Not even that, both Harry and Hermione had been so distant from him lately. Hermione was either sleeping, doing homework, acting rude or stupid, or off somewhere he didn't know. And Harry. He was always with a bunch of people talking secretly.

Ron had no idea what that was about.

Ron thought about all of his symptoms. Nausea wasn't the only one, after all. Frankly, he knew he'd seen them all—together—somewhere. Ron had been eating everything in sight. (He just couldn't get enough of those little breakfast omelets the house elves made.

In fact, he'd also gained some weight, too.

He had to pee every ten minutes.

Ron was tired _all the time. _

_What the hell is _wrong _with me? _he asked himself.

* * *

**Gee, Ron. I don't know!**

**Well... I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. Please Review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heey, there. **

**Enjoy le chapter. :) **

* * *

**Untold Stories  
**_Chapter Two_

* * *

**Headmaster's Office...**

* * *

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat in his office, inquiring about the days events.

It had been very unproductive, however, in his opinion. He had been meaning to speak with one Harry Potter, but hadn't gotten the chance that day. In fact, he had taken time off of his Headmaster-ly duties to sit around all day, purely _thinking. _He instructed the staff that was not to be bothered. Unfortunately, it was a day wasted as he hadn't come up with anything useful.

But _what _exactly was so important that he didn't want to be bothered at all?

_This. _

Dumbledore was sick and tired of the Ministry ruling over Hogwarts. It was his school, goddammit. It was bad enough they had the horrible pink bitch to Hogwarts and appointed her as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She had even had the _freaking _nerve to interrupt him during his speech after the welcoming feast. And worst of all, the Ministry had made him out to be a fraud, and had convinced everyone he was batshit insane.

As hard as he tried not to show it, all this stress was wearing him down. And frankly, just pissing him off.

The only _useful _thing that he had came up with after a day of thinking was—a scheme.

Bomb the Ministry, and the pink bitch's classroom. Oh, and kill that bastard Cornelius Fudge. If it meant killing other innocent people, Dumbledore would have to take the chance. So that was what was—unsuccessfully—doing today; planning his attack. And he was hoping that Harry Potter would help him... since Harry was probably equally as powerful and intelligent as he was, and could easily come up with a plan to help out his favorite Professor.

Dumbledore smiled thoughtfully, and took out a quill, and small piece of parchment from the inside of his desk.

_Harry, _

_I am requesting your presence in my office tonight at 8 o'clock. _

_Please send your response by owl as soon as possible. _

_- Professor Dumbledore_

_P.S. — I like acid pops. _

* * *

**Gryffindor Common Room...**

* * *

Harry had just finished his six inch Potions essay for Snape when he received the letter.

He took one look at it, and fear arose in his body. Did Dumbledore know about the White Magic? Was he going to be expelled? He didn't want to go back to Dursleys for the rest of his miserable life. Questions and other 'what-if' possibilities raced through his mind. Hands shaking, Harry wrote back...

_Okay, Professor,  
_

_I'll see you tonight at 8 o'clock._

_- Harry _

Harry decided that it would look suspicious if he refused, so he reluctantly scribbled his signature at the bottom of the page, and gave it to Hedwig. The snowy owl soared off to the Headmasters office. Fred came out of his own dormitory, and Harry rushed up to him in a panic.

"Fred!" Harry exclaimed frantically. "He's got me! What do I do!?"

Fred stared at him wide, shocked eyes. "What do you mean? Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Dumbledore's asked me to see him tonight at 8 o'clock."

Fred gasped. "Just... I don't know, "forget" to see him."

"But that'll look suspicious."

"Then tell him you have no idea what he's talking about," Fred suggested. "I mean, he's Dumbledore. The old man loves you, you're practically his favorite student. What's he _really _going to do to you?"

Harry thought about it. "Good point."

"And if he doesn't believe you, we'll round up everybody who some of the—the stuff... and turn them over to him," Fred said with a mischievous grin.

"Doesn't that include you?"

"Shh!" said Fred, who then bolted out of the Portrait hole. But despite Fred's attempts at comforting him, Harry's heart was still beating a mile a minute. He hadn't anticipated getting caught—I mean, he had been so careful, everyone had been so careful. But somehow, Dumbledore had managed to find out. Either that, or he knew the entire time.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he didn't have a clue of what Harry did in his spare time, and merely wanted to talk to him about something completely different. But that _couldn't _be right, I mean, why _else _would Dumbledore want to talk to him?

Harry skipped dinner that night.

He was too nervous to do anything, and so sought refuge in the Gryffindor common room. The only thing he could think about was his meeting with Dumbledore. Unfortunately for Harry, time passed quicker than he thought possible, and before he knew it the clock had just chimed eight. Harry looked down to his watch, jumped up from his spot, and burst out the Portrait hole. The usual ten minute journey to the Headmaster's office took a mere three minutes.

"Acid pops," Harry whispered into the door. The stone gargoyle's sprang to life, and door opened. Harry took a deep breath, and walking in without knocking. But the elder Wizard hadn't noticed, and looked as though her were deep in thought about something _very _important. "Sorry I'm late, Professor," Harry apologized. "I was just finishing my Potions essay and lost track of time."

Dumbledore looked up, startled. "Pardon?"

Harry swallowed. "I said I'm sorry for being late."

"Ah. Quite all right, Harry, my boy. Quite all right."

Harry nodded. "Um—uh, what did you want to see me about, sir?"

"Well, Harry," he replied, still looking very unfocused. "I could really use your help with something."

"Um, of course, sir," Harry surveyed him, questions running through his mind. "What did you need help with?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Have a seat. Sherbet Lemon?"

"No thank you."

Dumbledore shrugged, and popped the sweet in his mouth. "Well..."

Harry listened to Dumbledore in awe as he explained what he wanted from him. Most of Harry was merely relieved that Dumbledore had not found out about the White Magic. But Harry never realized that Dumbledore was capable of such—evil. Though he couldn't help but agree with the white-bearded Wizard—Umbridge was the most hated woman amongst every teacher, student, ghost, portrait, and staircase at Hogwarts.

And Minister Fudge. He was just oblivious, and naive. Mostly an idiot, though.

Many would be glad to see the pair dead.

Dumbledore had finished explaining everything Harry needed to know. He waited for the young boys response. Dumbledore studied his face, now _Harry _looked deep in thought. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted telling Harry about his plans. What if Harry thought that he was crazy and did something stupid or reckless?

Harry took in a deep breath. He smiled. "I like it!"

* * *

**Gryffindor Girls Dormitory...**

* * *

Hermione woke from another nights binge, and moaned.

She had slept through her morning lessons, and was cutting it close if she wanted to make it to her afternoon ones. With great difficulty, Hermione pulled himself up and got out of bed. Her unsteady feet were already wobbly, as she attempted to maneuver herself around the room. Hermione went into her trunk, and put on her school robes.

She stumbled out of the dormitory, and walked down the stairs to the common room. It was completely empty, as usual.

Hermione looked at the large clock on the mantel—12:15. She groaned. Not only was she 15 minutes late, but it was for Potions. She was very tempted to ditch class yet again, but he decided against it; she hadn't been to class in ages. Hermione exited through the Portrait hole, and made her way to the dungeons. She told herself that she shouldn't be surprised if Snape gave her a detention, or embarrassed her in front of the class at least. But she was too hungover to care.

She walked into the classroom to find everyone huddled around their cauldrons making—according to the blackboard—Sleeping Draught. Snape stared at her with his usual no-emotion glare. "Nice of you to join us, Ms. Granger."

"Nice to see you too, Professor," Hermione replied icily.

Snape's lip curled. "Let's see, that will be one weeks worth of detention, Ms. Granger. Maybe that will teach you to be on time for my class."

Hermione merely nodded, yawned, and made her way over to the empty desk beside Harry. Hermione could have cared less if she had a months worth of detentions. All she wanted to do right now was sleep... and maybe curl up to a nice book and bottle of Fire-Whiskey. She would have to go steal some from the kitchens tonight. Again.

Snape stared at her with angry eyes. _Granger is really staying strong, _he thought. She hadn't given him any more excuses to give her even more detentions. What was to do then? Snape decided he would go bully Longbottom. That would definitely help boost his enormous ego.

Meanwhile, Hermione set her books and Potion ingredients on the table. "Where have you been for the last, what—month?" Harry exclaimed. "I thought you died or something, Hermione!"

"I've been around," she replied with a yawn. "But, I'm just fine, okay?"

"How unfortunate," Snape growled in his dreary voice behind the pair.

"Yeah well, _I _think it's pretty _unfortunate _that you're still here and alive as well, so why don't you learn to shut your mouth!"

The room completely silent.

Everyone stared at Hermione, shocked at her outburst. But she had merely continued worked as if she had not just went all psycho-chick on Snape. Snape stared down at her, attempting—but failing, miserably—to hide his own shock.

"_What _did you just say?" he snarled through gritted teeth.

Hermione looked up. "Oh, you didn't hear me, buddy? Well, I said that it's quite unfortunate that you're still alive and well. I also added that you need to learn how to keep your enormous mouth shut!"

Snape was getting angrier and angrier.

"You see here, Professor," she cried. "I'm tired of your dreary attitude, and you finding every way possible to put me down. I won't be taking your crap any longer!"

Snape looked about ready to explode. All of sudden—he did. "ROOOOAAAAARR!" he yelled loudly. The noise echoed off the walls and soon everyone at Hogwarts had heard it.

"WHOA there Snivellus, calm down! Seriously, have you ever considered anger management classes?" Hermione asked with a grin.

Snape just stood in his spot, huffing and puffing like a dragon. He looked as if he were about to attack the bushy-haired Witch at any given moment. No sooner had he roared, Dumbledore and McGonagall burst through the door. "_Stupefy!_" Dumbledore cried.

Snape collapsed onto the ground with a loud _thump. _"Now, what happened?" asked Dumbledore calmly, looking to the class of fifth years. Everyone was gesturing to Hermione with their eyes, who was staring intently at her cauldron. "Ms. Granger?"

No answer.

"Ms. Granger?" said Dumbledore again, this time a little louder.

Again, no answer.

Dumbledore walked behind her, and tapped her on the shoulder. Hermione jerked up, and emptied the contents of her stomach all over Dumbledore's new robes. Then, she fainted.

* * *

**Boys Lavatory...**

* * *

Ron had found himself yet again in front of the porcelain god, vomiting and retching to his hearts content. He hadn't had a decent sleep in ages, his emotions were all over the place, and he just felt so... out of check with his body. Although, everyone seemed oblivious of him, too, and just made it out to... stress, or... whatever. But it had been going on for nearly four months now, and no one even had the slightest idea of what could be the matter.

Ron had spent most of the morning in and out of the lavatory—he was in desperate need of some sort of anti-nausea potion. The familiar '_brriinng' _of the school bell indicated that it was time for lunch. But even just the thought of some sort of food, brought on another wave nausea, and threw up once more. Ron moaned, and wished he would finally get over this bug.

Ron lay crouched inside the lavatory stall, breathing deeply. He felt so weak, so helpless... he didn't know what to do. Had people not noticed he was gone? He could only think that they hadn't noticed a thing.

Whatever was wrong with him, seemed to have only gotten worse as the months went on.

He burst into tears. Ron needed them—Harry and Hermione were his best friends and they weren't here for him. Or even attempting to look for him, for that matter. Ron felt so alone, and friendless. Suddenly, the knock on the door stopped his thoughts. "Mr. Weasley, are you in there?" asked the voice he recognized to Professor McGonagall.

Then another voice; his sister. "Ron?"

Ron attempted a reply, but vomited yet again. Though, it worked out as as a sort of reply and made it obvious to the people that were looking for him, that he was in fact, in the lavatory. One of the two women knocked on the stall he was in. "Mr. Weasley, are you all right?"

Ron didn't reply—he was too weak to, anyways. "Please, Ron. We've been so worried about you."

He moaned, and let out a quiet sob. Ron reached her hand to the knob, and opened the stall door. Ginny and McGonagall looked down at him with obvious concern on their faces. Ginny reached out her hand in an attempt to help Ron up off of the floor. Which worked until he crashed into Professor McGonagall, almost knocking the both of them to the ground. Luckily, Professor McGonagall caught him just in time.

"Let's get you up to the Hospital Wing," soothed Professor McGonagall.

Ron's eyes widened, and he shook his head violently. "N—n—no! I—I—I'm fine! It's just a bug." He didn't know _why, _exactly he was protesting.

Although, he knew it was no use protesting that to the stern bespectacled professor, and the fiery redhead. They lifted him up and brought him down to the Hospital Wing.

At least there she would finally figure out what was the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

**R&R! I shall give you free cookies, and rainbows, and unicorns. **

**Whoa. **

* * *

**Untold Stories  
**_Chapter 3_

* * *

Dumbledore and Harry had come up with an _almost _air-tight scheme. And after countless nights of hard work, dedication, and perfecting every last detail, they were finally ready to carry out their plan. The two wizards stared down at the parchment containing everything.

_1. In the early hours of the morning, Big D (Dumbledore) meets HP inside the Gryffindor Common room.  
__2. Together, they will sneak into Umbridge's office and plant their clever bomb.  
__3. Then, they will leave the Hogwarts grounds, and take the train into Hogsmeade.  
4. In Hogsmeade, they will apparate to the Ministry of Magic.  
5. Big D will enter, claiming to be on "important Hogwarts business." (HP will be behind him under the invisibility cloak)  
6. They will sneak into Minister Fudge's office, and plant second bomb.  
7. Leave Ministry of Magic.  
8. Plan complete. _

At first, the pair had planned to make a trigger, which would set it off once somebody opened the door. But on the off chance their intended victims were _not _the first to enter their office, they put an enchantment on the bomb, making it only detonate to the people it was supposed to kill.

If all went as planned, Dolores Jane Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge would be dead that very day.

They read over the plan just once more, but little did they know that the stern Professor Minerva McGonagall had heard _everything. _She blasted the gargoyles apart, and the door to Dumbledore's office burst open. She had a wild look in her eye as she shrieked, "_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! _I _cannot _permit you commit such an act!"

Dumbledore nearly jumped ten feet at the sight of his bespectacled colleague. "Minerva," he blushed. "What are—I didn't see you come in!"

McGonagall looked unimpressed. "Don't give me this cock and bull story, Albus! I heard everything you said, and I cannot let you do that. At least not the Minister of Magic, Merlin's beard, Albus what were you thinking! You'll be sent to Azkaban!"

"But—wait, what about Professor Umbridge?"

Minerva shrugged. "I could honestly care less about what you do to the pink bitch."

"Then—"

"No, Albus," she warned.

"BUT MINERVA," he whined.

"_No!_" she snapped. "And _you _Mr. Potter, I know all about that White Magic crap you've been distributing, so you'd _better not _do anything stupid!"

And with that, Minerva McGonagall stomped out of the room in a huff. Harry stood motionless in his spot. _I know all about the White Magic. _The words repeated in his mind. She knew?! But it had appeared that she hadn't mentioned anything to Dumbledore. At least not yet, anyway. Harry sighed. "Curses, our plans foiled!"

"And it was going so well!" Dumbledore cried.

McGonagall was still furious that the Headmaster and Boy Who Lived would even think something as horrible as terrorism and assassination. She stomped down the cold, marble steps. McGonagall had been surprised by Albus' obliviousness, considering she was only _Deputy _Headmistress of Hogwarts. She marched purposefully down the corridors which appeared to be deserted and silent. Well, with the obvious exception of Filch making sex noises towards Mrs. Norris. But that was normal for this late in the night.

But there was _another _voice she heard... singing?

"Aaaaaaannnndd I wwwiiilllllll alllwwwaaayyys llloooovvve yyooouu!" her words were slurred. Yes, the smartest witch in her year, also known as Hermione Granger, had yet again gotten herself drunk.

"Ms. Granger!" McGonagall gasped. "What do you think your _doing?_"

"Heyyy bbbaaabeee."

McGonagall was taken aback by his statement. But it all made sense once she looked over beside her; three empty bottles of Fire-Whiskey were scattered about the floor. She sighed, grabbing the young witch by her shoulder. "Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey, she has a wonderful cure for hangovers."

Hermione hiccoughed. "I'mm finnneee," she giggled.

"I'm sure you are."

"That explains why she's been ditching all her classes," she thought with a sigh. "She's off getting hammered."

McGonagall assisted Hermione to the Hospital Wing, and helped her into one of the beds. She called over her good friend, and the schools current healer, Madame Poppy Pomfrey. "Ms. Granger is in high need of one of your famous hangover cures."

Madame Pomfrey looked shocked. "She's drunk?"

"I found her singing in the corridors."

Madame Pomfrey looked down disapprovingly at Hermione. "Well, Ms. Granger. I don't know what you're doing getting yourself drunk, but I'm going to give you a nice hangover potion and you should be good as new by tomorrow morning!"

Hermione stared up at her, and smiled. She held up her hands. "LOOK, I HAVE FINGERS!"

She frowned. "No more Fire-Whiskey for you," she shook her head. "Where is she even getting this stuff?"

McGonagall shrugged. She looked at the bed across the room. "Ah. How is Mr. Weasley."

"_Oh._"

"_Oh? _Oh _what?_"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "He should be all right for now."

"What, is he sick?"

"Not quite."

"Not quite? You're going in circles here, Poppy."

"I ran some tests after you brought him in."

"And?"

"And he's—I don't really know how to say this—"

"Spit it out already, Poppy, come—"

"He's pregnant."

Silence.

"... You're kidding... right?"

"I'm afraid not."

"But—but there are some challenges to this, don't you think?"

"Yes, he's only a child, but I'm sure—"

"He's a boy, Poppy. A BOY. He doesn't have the right—equipment—to carry a baby."

"Try telling that to the fetus."

McGonagall slapped her hand to her forehead. "How is this even possible?"

Madame Pomfrey shrugged. "I'm not sure. They never talked about it in—"

"You're not sure? You're not _sure?_" McGonagall gasped. "Try telling that to Molly Weasley. 'Hello Molly, how lovely to speak with you. ... Yes, Ron is doing wonderful only he's having a _BLOODY BABY!_"

"Well forgive me, Minerva, but they don't exactly teach male pregnancy in medical school. It's a specialized skill."

McGonagall sighed. "Sorry, sorry. This is just a—a shock!"

"Imagine being in his position. He's in total denial."

"Anyone would be, Poppy."

"I tried explaining to him that it's a very rare condition, but wouldn't hear of it. I showed him books. I even showed him all of the test results, I give him both a muggle and wizard scan... denial isn't even the right word. He _refuses _to believe it. All the signs were there, but he ignored them and now he's nearly four or five months into it."

"Ah," she sighed. "Too far along for termination."

"Quite right, quite right."

"And the er—mother?"

"By my calculations, it should be around the time of the Yule Ball."

"Padma Patil."

McGonagall sighed. This day just kept getting _better and better._

The next day, McGonagall was working her morning rounds, patrolling the corridors as she always did when she didn't have a class. She had been walking around the dungeons when suddenly a blood-curdling scream echoed off the walls. It was coming from the Potions classroom! She ran inside, and found all of the students huddled in the corners of the room. Snape was at the window. "WHERE IS YOUR GODDAMN HOMEWORK, YOUNG MAN!"

"Severus!" she shrieked. "Just what do you think you're doing to that poor boy?"

He looked back at her, and shrugged. "This _stupid _child doesn't have his homework!"

"I'm sorry, Professor. I just left my homework in the common room. I'll do a months worth of detention, just please put me back down!" pleaded the young boy. Snape had been holding the student up by his ankles and was dangling him out of the window.

McGonagall gasped. "Severus! Put that student down _this instant_!"

Snape shrugged. "Okay," and he let go.

"Oh my Wizarding God!" she screeched "_Stupefy!_" Snape fell to the ground.

She ran to the window, and was relieved to find the young boy hanging onto the frame. "Here, grab my hand."

The frightened boy nodded.

McGonagall helped him back into the classroom, then turned to the rest of the students. "Class dismissed!"

The students filed out immediately, probably not ever wanting to be in the same room as Severus Snape again.

The poor boy was shaking. "I'm sorry, professor. I just left it there, and then the bell rang and I didn't get—"

"It's all right," soothed McGonagall. "Don't worry! Go get to class, now." He ran out of the room.

Snape groaned from the floor. "You had _no_ right to do that, Minerva."

"I had _every _right to," she snapped. "When a student's life is in danger, it is my duty to protect them. And you will _not _use that tone with me."

And with that, she deep breathed and left the room.

* * *

**Now that McGonagall's uncovered all of their secrets... what will happen next? **

**DUN DUN DUN. **

**Anyways... hope you liked this chapter. Next chapter will be out soon!**

**Review! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**This'll just be a short filler chapter. **

**Enjoy! :D **

* * *

**Untold Stories  
**_Chapter 4_

* * *

McGonagall sighed as she signed the last letter. She tied the final piece of parchment to her owl, so that it would be mailed to the correct recipient. She watched the young owl soared out of her study through the window, until it came out of view.

With all the craziness going on, she decided that it was time for a good old-fashioned intervention (or therapy session depending on what you preferred), to—several—occupants of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, all she had to do was wait until she got everyone's responses. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Snape, and even Dumbledore had received the letter.

Each with identical words printed on it; with the exception of each of the their names written neatly at the top.

_Dear _Blank,

_As I have recently been made aware of your—"issues", be it drug dealing, alcoholism, terrorism, anger issues, or even pregnancy, I am requesting your presence in my office at six o'clock sharp tomorrow evening. I hope that we may be able to further discuss whatever problems that seem to be wreaking havoc in your life. _

_It would be most of you to attend, as your future at this school is in jeopardy. _

_I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. _

_Regards,  
Professor Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

The words, however, were empty threats. McGonagall was merely Deputy Headmistress and did not actually have the authority or power to expel or fire them. Really, it was only meant to spark fear in the minds of its recipients.

Harry read the letter, and nearly choked on the glass of Pumpkin Juice he'd been drinking. _Your future at this school is in jeopardy? _Who would make the White Magic after he was gone? After all, he was the only person who actually knew how to brew the stuff properly. But she had said "jeopardy", and not plainly "you're expelled", so it gave him hope that he might be able to stay at Hogwarts.

And... he couldn't forget that the press would give him a living hell! Harry could just read the headlines: Harry Potter, mighty Dark Lord Defeater, kicked out of Hogwarts for selling Muggle Drugs; _Rita Skeeter determines fact from fiction. _

Hermione's reaction had been entirely different from the Boy Who Lived. Against Madame Pomfrey's wishes, she had yet again sneaked into the kitchen and gotten herself drunk again. In fact, she was _so _drunk to even attempt to properly comprehend the letter, and thought it was McGonagall's way of showing she wanted to 'hook up' with her.

Hermione responded immediately, saying that 'while she didn't bat for that team, she would still attend the meeting'.

Ron had read the letter, and was just plain old annoyed. Why, for bloody Merlin's sake did everyone seem to think that he was pregnant, when he so obviously wasn't. Sure, he'd had a couple symptoms similar with pregnancy, but he was _perfectly fine now. _And he wasn't going to let anybody tell him otherwise. And—what was with all of 'drug dealing, alcoholism etc.' about? Were they _accusing _him of that, too?

One might say that Snape had taken the information on the letter the absolute worst. He was furious that she had the _freaking nerve, _to "inform" him about his mother-fucking issues. He made sure to remind himself to tell her that she could 'take his issues, and shove it up her ass.'

Snape was so outrage that he nearly destroyed the the Potions classroom—and nearly all of the dungeons, too. Madame Pomfrey, having heard his uproar came down to check up on him. She tried calming him down, but had no such luck. She ended up having to sedate him...

Lastly, Dumbledore's reaction was the most different from the rest. He was, perhaps, the calmest of all recipients. But he could not believe he was receiving threats from his own colleague. _Your future at this school is in jeopardy? _What was she, disciplining him? And when did it become her decision to kick him out of school?

He would definitely have to have a little chat with her.

In the end, however, they all decided to respond with a 'yes'.

Even Dumbledore.

He thought he would humor her with his presence.

Now, they merely had to wait for the meeting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Um... yeah. Enjoy! :D **

* * *

**Untold** **Stories**  
_Chapter 5_

* * *

McGonagall sighed to herself, as she looked at the small clock perched on the wall; ten minutes 'til six.

Ten minutes 'til all _hell _would break loose, in the comfort of her own office of course. She'd been shocked that _everyone_—even Dumbledore!— had responded to her letter with a 'yes'. She'd most certainly expected every one of them to protest in outrage at being called out on their "issues", and blatantly refuse to attend the meeting. But they came—or rather, were going to come—without a fight.

McGonagall hoped.

It had taken her quite a while to determine _what _exactly she was going to do. After all, McGonagall knew that giving them some sort of lecture wouldn't do anything to solve the problem. So, after much thought, she came to the conclusion to hire... a therapist—and a muggle one, at that. She'd considered hiring a wizard therapist for the meeting, but decided against it.

Instead, she reached the decision to hire a famous muggle therapist—he even had his own television show! Considering the thousands of viewers that watched the broadcast every time it aired, he could _probably _rid them all of their problems with no trouble at all. That was what she _thought _he could do, anyways.

McGonagall quickly magicked her office in order to accommodate all of the people coming. She zapped several chairs, and put them into a large circle. Sure enough, at six o'clock sharp several loud knocks rang throughout the room. She rushed to the door. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Potter... Mr. Weasley... Ms. Granger."

The golden trio nodded, and proceeded through the door and into one of the seats. Harry and Ron began whispering amongst themselves, while Hermione kept eye contact with McGonagall. She smiled foolishly, and winked.

A couple of minutes later, Dumbledore staggered into the room, with Snape walking sluggishly at his heel. His lip curled. "I didn't sign up for some bloody group therapy, Minerva," he sneered. "I think I'll be going now!"

"Oh no, Severus!" and with the flick of her wand, the door slammed shut with a loud bang. "You're going to stay _right _here!"

McGonagall sternly pointed to a chair on the other side of the room. And Snape knew not to refuse—her expression told everyone she was _not _in the mood for any foolishness. Fuming, Snape stomped over to the chair, putting extra emphasis on each step he look. He looked very much like a toddler who'd been told he couldn't get a lollipop.

The bespectacled witch took in a deep breath. She turned to everybody, and smiled somewhat sarcastically. "Now," she began. "As you all know, I have called you here in hopes pf fixing your, er—"issues". And to do that, I thought that the best way to help was to call—"

"GHOSTBUSTERS!" Ron screamed.

Hermione stared at him, giggling. "How do you even know what that is, Ronald?"

"What'choo talkin' bout, Willis?"

She shook her head, laughing her pants off. "You're crazy, you know that? Real crazy."

"_Anyways,_" McGonagall started, frustrated. "I thought that the best way to help all of you was to call..." she looked pointedly at Ron. "No, not the Ghostbusters (whatever that may be), but a famous muggle television therapist. His name is... DOCTOR PHIL!"

Hearing the name seemed to pull Hermione out of her drunken stupor, and she gasped in horror. "No!" she shrieked. "You can't do this to us, Professor! This is torture, a violation of our human rights!"

Harry nodded vigorously in agreement. "Professor, he's a _horrible _therapist! Trust me, my abusive aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon used to make me watch it every night," Harry shuddered. "Those were dark times!"

McGonagall shrugged. "Well, sorry kids," she replied, not looking very sorry at all. "But I've already hired him, not to mention he made me pay his fee in advance. Let me tell you, Doctor Phil is a _very _expensive doctor. I would really hate for all my money to have gone to waste. So... bye!" And she jumped up, and ran out the door before anyone could even move an inch.

Needless to say, the occupants of the room were very confused.

Dumbledore, Snape, and Ron were the most confused out of all of them. "Who is this "Doctor Phil" guy?" Dumbledore questioned. "Is hethat bad. I mean, really!?"

Harry and Hermione, both having been raised by muggles, had almost forgotten that they were probably the only people in the room who had ever heard of the horrible Doctor Phil, and all his evil doings. "Doctor Phil," Harry shook the chills from his body, "is a famous muggle therapist. To put it as simply as possible, he does therapy on television."

"Ooooh! Now I get it," said Dumbledore.

Suddenly, a black leather office spinney chair (that most certainly had not been in the room five seconds ago) appeared. While it was a natural occurrence for such things to happen inside Hogwarts, it was still, for some odd reason, surprising. Slowly, and quite melodramatically, the chair twirled around gracefully. Sitting comfortably, with a large clipboard placed in his lap, was Doctor Phil.

"Hellerr," he said, very Madea-esque, a foolish grin on his face. "Welcome to _Doctor Phil_! I'm your host, Phil McGraw."

Applause rang out through an invisible audience.

Harry shook his head with disbelief. "Here we go," he muttered.

"Today," he said."We'll be havin' a nice little chat with some ever-so troubled teens. And, of course, erm—some troubled adults as well. First let me introduce them to yah'll. There is the ever famous Boy Who Lived, Mr. Harry Potter. The "intelligent" (when she's sober) Hermione Granger. There's Ms., oh excuse me, Mr. Ronald Weasley. The icky Severus Snape. And finally, the ever wise Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!"

More applause rang out through the invisible audience, but it was considerably less loud than what it had been when Doctor Phil had introduced himself.

Ron nudged Harry's arm with a grin. "You may say that this guy is "horrible", but any person calls Professor Snape icky is bloody _brilliant _in my books."

"Don't let him fool you, mate," Harry replied knowingly. "He's completely horrible, trust me on this one!"

Ron shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Suddenly, a silver flat screen television appeared in the middle of the room. It was magicked so that screen could be visible at any angle. Then, a movie of some sort began playing.

_The clock had just struck midnight, as the moon cast an eerie glow against the sides of the castle. Several crows cawed a couple of times before flying off into the distance. _

_A young wizard with unruly jet black hair sat in the Owlery, hunched over a large black cauldron. Beside him, flasks lay scattered around. Some were filled entirely with various ingredients, while others were empty. The young boy added each ingredient with precision, making sure his brew was _just _right. Finally, all the flasks were empty. _

_The potion began a bright white, before dissolving into a thin, loose powder._

_Suddenly, Doctor Phil's voice could heard, almost as if he were speaking from somewhere in the distance. "This is Harry James Potter. I won't go into any lengthy explanation of who he is, as I'm sure you already know. But there is one thing that you probably _don't _know about the Boy Who Live; he's Hogwarts' resident Drug Dealer." _

_The audience gasped. "Oh my!" _

_"At the beginning or term," Doctor Phil continued. "Harry, and a few trusted friends started a small business of distributing these drugs to students of this fine school." _

_Suddenly, the scene cut to the boys lavatory on the third floor. A young ginger-haired young man lay crouched against the side of the toilet, sobbing and retching into the porcelain god. The scene dissolved into the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey, the school's current healer was nearly yelling at the poor young teenager. But he was just shaking his head with disbelief, completely in denial about what he was being told. _

_"And this Ronald Bilius Weasley," said Doctor Phil again. "He is your average wizard. He gets average grades, and is quite the under-achiever. He is fifteen years of age and..." Doctor Phil paused for dramatic effect "is five months pregnant!" _

"Am not!" Ron cried in protest, jumping up from his seat.

"Oooh! Lookie here, it's the little Weasley slut!" Malfoy sneered, appearing out of no where.

Everyone looked at the ferret, and stared him down with eyes fuming. "_GET OUT OF HERE, _MALFOY! Nobody likes you!" they all yelled in unison.

For the first time in his life, Draco Lucius Malfoy was a little hurt. And frankly, shocked too! _I thought that _everybody _loved me, _he said to himself. _I'm so beautiful, and talented, and smart, and... what's not to love? _Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I h—h—have feelings, you know?" he sobbed, tears now falling rapidly down his cheeks. "I just want to be loved! You hear me? Loved!"

"SECURITY, take him away!" Doctor Phil screamed. "HE'S RUINING THE SHOW GODDAMMIT!"

Again out of no where, two strong and muscular men appeared and dragged the hysterical Malfoy out of the room. "Why does nobody love me?" he cried, struggling against the two security guards grips. Just as he got to the door frame, he let out a bloodcurdling scream. "FOREVER ALONE! "AHHH!"

"Anyways," exclaimed Doctor Phil forcefully.

_The movie continued playing once more, and the scene changed yet again. This time, we saw a young bushy-hair witched sneaking into the kitchens at what everybody would've guessed to be an ungodly hour. _

Hermione pointed at the screen, and grinned. "Hey, look!" she cried, as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world. "It's me!"

_She pulled out several gigantic bottles of Fire-Whiskey (normally reserved for the "staff meetings") from the large fridge, and stuffed them into her night gown. It didn't really do a very good job of hiding the booze, but she didn't care. Hermione looked as though she were considering leaving, but the quench got the best of her. She pulled out one, and downed in all in one big gulp. _

_She took a moment to catch her bearings, as the alcohol burned down his throat. _

_"This is Hermione Jean Granger, and she's a drunk." _

"Whoa whoa whoa there!" Hermione cried, standing from his seat. "What the hell is this?"

"Well Hermione," Doctor Phil began. "This—"

"Shut up old man, I wasn't finished!" she sneered. "Did we just come here to get judge? To boost your ratings?"

"Now Hermione, I don't need _your _help to "boost my ratings". I'm just amazing at it is," he replied smugly.

"Really, Doctor? I mean, why would _anybody _want to be helped by a person whose job description split in two is: "the rapist"?" Hermione asked, equally as smug. "Are pedophile, Doctor Phil?"

"That's serious allegation Hermione. And I don't appreciate being rail-roaded by the likes of you. ALL OF YOU FUCKING BATSHIT INSANE! You should be lucky that you have me to help you!"

"Right," Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"CRAZY!? WHO ARE YOU CALLING CRAZY, ASSHOLE?" Snape screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Calm down, sir!" Doctor Phil yelled.

Suddenly, the room went completely silent. So silent you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone watched in awe as you could literally see Snape's blood begin to boil in anger. Fuming, he whipped out his wand. "AVADA KE-FUCKING-DAVRA. DIE BITCH!"

A jet of green light shot of Snape's wand. Doctor Phil tried to move out of the way, but the dark magic in the Unforgivable Curse was just too strong. Hitting the elder man square in the chest, he fell to the ground...

Dead.

"Well," said Harry with an evil grin. "I think we're cured."


	6. Chapter 6

**Last chapter! **

**And it only took two years to complete! **

**Enjoy! :D**

* * *

**Untold** **Stories**  
_Chapter 6_

* * *

**4 Months Later...**

* * *

Harry James Potter had always thought that he would die at the hands of Voldemort, dying for the greater good. Or maybe in Care of Magical Creatures lessons with Hagrid—but mostly the former. He was Harry _Freaking_ Potter, for Merlin's sake! He defeated the Dark Lord when he was a baby. He was capable of _anything_! Or so he thought.

He never anticipated being confronted by an angry mob of addicted Hufflepuffs, plus Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Trelawney.

Harry bolted through the hallways and corridors, pushing past all those in his way. Finally reaching the Gryffindor tower, he muttered the password to the Fat Lady. She didn't budge. He glanced up. "Hey, what gives?"

"Password."

"I already told you; Caput Draconis!"

She shook her head. "Mmm mmm mmm!"

"_What!_" he cried. Curse his blasted memory. "Um... Balderdash!"

"No."

"Drat, um—Fairy Lights?"

"Nope."

"Look lady," he snapped, eyes wide. "LET ME IN THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

"No password, no entry," the Fat Lady replied crossing her arms.

"Fortuna Major?"

The portrait swung open.

Harry rushed inside, cursing the Fat Lady under his breath. He ran up to the boys dormitory, slamming the door shut. Harry took a moment to catch his breath—that's when he noticed something odd. Hermione lay sprawled across his bed, a bottle of Fire-Whiskey dangling off the side. "Harry, fancy seeing you here!" she hiccoughed.

"Hermione, what the hell?"

She shrugged, taking a swig of the bottle.

"Uugghhh," Ron moaned.

Harry looked over to Ron's four post bed. Writhing on the bed, he clutched his protruding stomach.

"The baby will be here soon," Hermione giggled.

"Why aren't you doing anything? You're a woman!"

"Harry," she cooed. "I don't know _anything _about delivering a baby!"

"You think I do?"

_BANG. BANG. BANG. _

"Potter! OPEN UP!"

"Shit," Harry cursed. He cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said, donning a high-pitched voice. "Harry's not in right now."

"Oh," and the banging stopped.

"Phew," Harry breathed. "That was a close one."

_The End. _

"Wait!" Harry cried.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You haven't even finished the story."

"Everyone knows you have to at least tell the readers what happens to the characters after the end of the book," Hermione said knowingly.

_Fine. _

Harry continued to sell the White Magic until seventh year, where he was murdered by Colin Creevey after refusing another picture.

Snape went off on another murderous rampage in a small muggle village and was never seen or heard from again.

Dumbledore continued his job as Headmaster at Hogwarts. But not before unleashing the Centaurs upon Umbitch.

Hermione continued drinking until she fell down a flight of stairs and ended up in a coma.

And Ron ended up giving birth to triplets.

_Happy? _

"What!" the Golden Trio screamed in unison.

"That's a terrible ending!" Harry screeched.

_It is what is is! _

_THE END. _

"But—"

_FOR REAL THIS TIME. _


End file.
